Damn Celebrations
by Convergence Secret Santa 2014
Summary: For: Liza, Dean monologues, the fourth wall crashes and Sam bans emotion.


**The Convergence Secret Santa**

**For:** Liza  
><strong>Penname:<strong> DreamWriter76  
><strong>Character:<strong> Dean Winchester  
><strong>Other Characters Used:<strong> Sam Winchester  
><strong>Rating:<strong> T  
><strong>Genre(s):<strong> mystery, relationship (family)  
><strong>Message to your person:<strong> Merry Christmas, my friend! Have a good one. I've had a great time with you this year, and can't wait to do the same again for the next.

**Damn Celebrations  
><strong>_Dean monologues, the fourth wall crashes and Sam bans emotion._

/I have never been one for celebrations. I suspect Sam would have worked that out by now. And if he hasn't…. well I hoped he does soon. I try to blame it on the job. With all the hunting. I mean, I can remember and recite Latin perfectly, but as soon as it comes to birthdays I have to call in with Bobby every day for a month to make sure I've got the day right.

I suppose there is something about Christmas that is different. Maybe it's the amount of red that for once isn't someone's fucking blood. Perhaps it's the lights which shine so bright you would almost think that some angel was trying to show himself to the entire world at once. Or maybe it is simply the fact that Christmas is the day we could always be certain Dad wouldn't show up for. Doesn't really matter what it is. I remember Christmas; always have, always will.

Not to mention; I remember Christmas with mom. Those sweet cherry pies, the awful attempts at Christmas rock songs, the snow that would lock us inside a house glistening with the smell of a crackling fire.

Sammy didn't remember any of that.

Sammy would never remember any of that.

Most likely because Sammy never got that.

I guess I should feel grateful for that much. To have at least had a life before being dragged into this god damned hell hole of gore. Not that I dislike hunting, I can't imagine myself doing anything else. It's just, sometimes I wonder what life would be like if I'd never been forced through this. If mom was still alive.

And then I think of Sam again. It's odd how such a tall guy manages to control most of my thoughts; especially when he isn't around. My mind always is brought back to that little twerp. Weird.

Dean shook his head as the thoughts drummed through him, Bobby had been so wrong about this talking to myself business. I feel like a fucking freak, turning ideas into monologues. Fuck I've done it again. And again. And probably- it's kind of addictive actually.

Anyway, Christmas. I want to make it unforgettable. Unforgettable and fun. Maybe I spent too much time thinking about it rather than doing it... But I tried...Yeah… I tried.

We never really stay in one place for too long, so I figured renting out a room in some fancy ass hotel wouldn't be too bad for a couple of nights. A couple of nights and that's all, no harm done: wrong. By the time I'd weighed up the prices, a month's worth of winnings and workings already gone to one fucking room. A single, fucking room./

The Impala came to a halt with that thought and the hunter stepped out of its clean interior, feeling the brisk air nag at his thick skin. The hairs on his neck spiked for a reason unknown to himself, yet he didn't question it. He had a room to decorate.

Dean moved to the back of so called 'Baby', boots seeping into crystal snow that began to soak through his socks, clinging to his feet in an unpleasant squelch.

"Fuck's sake…" he groaned loudly. It was more directed to himself than the family of four that was now avoiding him by a large circle to get to their car. He gave them a small pleasant wave, rolling his eyes as he was ignored.

The hotel looked smaller than he remembered, but then again he doubted the thing had managed to shrink overnight. He rubbed at the back of his neck, jumping slightly at the frozen state of his hands on bare skin, before continuing his trek to the glass doors.

However, as soon as he stepped into the place of complete silence, he knew it was exactly what he had paid for. He picked up the key from the front desk, tempted to talk up the receptionist. He would have done so too if her movements weren't so strict and to point.

Still, she was cute.

Dean shook his head to clear the thought, running up the pristine glass stairwell (this place really was fancy). He held onto the railing with an amount of delicacy that he had deemed impossible.

Climbing the stairs wasn't an effort, and besides the fact that they were literal glass, there wasn't much to them. It was the room he was interested in.

/The room. Ah yes, the room. Sam better love this./ He grinned at the thought as he opened the door to the seemingly small hotel apartment.

It wasn't that the room was small, more the bed took up so much of the room that it became quite trying to move from one end to the other. Still, it was the largest open space that Dean had sighted in months; and so he had no problem with running back down to the car for decorations.

/Decorations.

Sweet decorations. Sam and I did these every year. He was so annoying; guess a lot hasn't changed. A pause, my stomach should be dropping now; you know, at the thought of breaking a tradition. But honestly; I don't care. Sam's going to love this when he sees it. If he- shut up brain, it's Christmas tomorrow. Literally nothing can happen to him in one night. Nothing. I won't let it./

He didn't have the care to figure that the last part of that thought was a bit more reasonable as he set up the tree. The faster he did this; the better. He finished up, placing the gift for his brother underneath the tiny tree he had set up on the bedside table. The same tiny tree, may my interjecting author self-add, that had a picture of Cas' face badly sticky taped to the top.

He stepped back from the homely room, observing it from the door way before closing the wooden slab; speeding back to the Impala and zooming into the night without a word.

It was harder to get Sam to willingly leave the motel than expected. The giant seemed intent on bargaining for his gift, not realizing that the older hunter literally didn't have it on him. Finally, after the maturity of the two grown men seemed to stoop to a new low, they trekked to the hotel.

The events that happened in the Impala were vowed to never be repeated of, with a strict 'What happens in the Impala, stays in the Impala' promise. So with all my author honesty, I am sorry but I simply can't break the fourth wall in that way.

By the time they got to the room, Sam was to say the least, amazed.

"You did all this?" He asked, eyebrows raised in surprise.

"No, the Christmas elves came." Dean replied with such sarcasm that the younger hunter almost winced.

"So, you did do all this." Sam confirmed, sitting on the bed.

"No shit Samantha." Dean laughed, his hand shooting to Sam's head now that he could finally reach it, messing up the mop of hair with a smirk. Sam stuck out his tongue, noticing the image of Cas and chuckling light heartedly.

"Oh, and Merry Christmas, I guess." Dean grinned, slipping an envelope off the table and handing it to Sam.

He raised a questioning eyebrow, Dean did the same.

One moment's hesitation and Sam was ripping it open not so carefully, looking over the letters before him in a mix of confusion and loss. His face dropped somewhat and Dean's smile slipped away at the thought that he had somehow offended him.

"You know what it is right?"

Sam didn't answer.

"Stanford University, another interview there. I managed to do a bit of research and bribing an-"

"Dean I can't accept this."

"What do you mean? Of course you can." Dean argued, slightly astonished.

"No I can't." Sam looked slightly shaken, trying to pass Dean the piece of paper.

"And why is that?" Dean asked, folding his arms.

"Oh come on Dean, you know why!"

"Sammy, it isn't a problem, I know you want to have a life. Hunting was never no good for anyone, you know that. At least go to the interview."

"Dean, I can't." Sam sighed. "This is my life now. I wouldn't have it any other way."

Dean was sure if you listened closely you could hear his heart break. He was also sure that that was the cheesiest thought he had ever thought of in his life.

"Thanks Sammy." Dean whispered after a moment, a small smile creeping onto his face.

"Hey, no chick flick moments." Sam teased, punching his brother's arm softly.

"Bitch."

"Jerk."

/Yeah, I have never been one for celebrations./


End file.
